The Well
by JJuna
Summary: A visit to the Disir leaves Merlin with a moral dilemma. Can he do the right thing? AU of 5x05
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This story is dedicated to Jillcb, who wanted a positive Mordred story. Thank you to Wil1969 for the beautiful cover, and thank you to the totally awesome caldera32 for help and advice :)

The party from Camelot entered the cave, and Merlin was seized by a sense of foreboding. He had warned the king that the place was sacred, but Arthur had refused to listen. He had argued the point, claiming that he had been here before and knew the area well. Yet something was wrong. As Arthur stepped forward to face the Disir, asking why they sought to judge him, Merlin watched the scene in a haze, until he felt his head would explode. He could sense only dark magic all around him. The irony, the inconsistency of it screamed at him. How could the Disir condemn Arthur so quickly, when they had permitted Uther to reign unchallenged for over twenty years? Why hadn't they attacked the previous king? Arthur had been right all along. It was nonsense. Merlin blamed himself for being so gullible as to fall for it. Not only he, but Gaius and Kilgharrah too.

"We do not judge."

"We do not condemn."

The contradictory words, delivered in a cruel monotone, penetrated Merlin's thoughts and raised his anger to boiling point. He reminded himself of what Gaius had said about the Disir.

 _"I didn't know they still existed until yesterday."_

Except, of course, they didn't. Uther would have destroyed them long ago during the purge. No deity was present here, and these women were not who they claimed to be. They were no more than disaffected witches with an elaborate plan, and Arthur had walked headlong into a trap. Merlin's first thought was to get all his friends out, but it was already too late. Gwaine, as impetuous as ever, tried to silence the women, causing one of them to launch her staff at Arthur in retaliation. Mordred bravely threw himself in the path of the missile, saving the king's life, but was badly wounded as a result.

"On me!" Arthur shouted, beating a retreat, and the rest of the group followed him out of the cave. All except Merlin, who easily deflected the second staff launched in his direction, and in a blaze of fury, turned to confront the women. Shock made them lift their heads and show their eyes for the first time, but he saw no sign of recognition in them.

"Do you think your paltry magic can trouble me?" he raged. You have defiled this sacred place, and two men have died needlessly in furtherance of your wicked plot."

They looked venomous but failed to answer his accusation.

"I see no light of the goddess in you," he said. "You are imposters, and you thought to manipulate a young and inexperienced king, and bend him to your will by use of this sordid trick." His expression darkened, and his voice was low and minatory. "I will spare your lives this time, but I must warn you that any repeat of these actions will prove fatal."

They hissed as one and released their spells in his direction. He batted them away as easily as flies and addressed the women again.

"Leave this place, return the runemark, and go back to your homes. Magic will be restored to these lands without any help or intervention from you."

At this, they dropped their act, and asked, "By whom?"

"A true scion of the goddess would know me," he replied. A Kilgharrism, if ever there was one, he thought to himself. The dragon would be proud of me. His self congratulations were brought abruptly to a halt as he turned to leave and found himself face to face with the king, who stood open mouthed and wide eyed in shock. Having realized the servant was not with them and fearing he could be in danger, he had returned and witnessed everything.

"A true scion of the goddess would know me," Arthur repeated. "You have some explaining to do," he said in a grim tone as Merlin rushed past him and out of the cave.

"Later," the servant replied distractedly. He had gone into shock too, but a glance at Arthur would have warned him that it was a mistake to brush the king aside in this fashion.

Merlin ran to the others. "We must leave this place immediately. It's not safe here. Bring Mordred as carefully as you can." He led the way, concerned only to escape from the dark magic that pursued them. The grove should have been an enchanting and life-affirming place, but it had been poisoned by the malevolence of the women. Their impossible demands and harsh pronouncements plagued his thoughts, and he tried hard to shake them off. When he felt the evil influence had waned, he stopped and said, "We can make camp here." He knew he needed to examine Mordred as soon as possible. Sir Percival laid the druid boy gently on the ground, and Merlin knelt by his side. It didn't take long to determine the extent of his injuries.

"Well?" Arthur said. His concern for the young man overtook all his other emotions.

"I'm sorry," Merlin replied. "It's not a simple wound. There is sorcery involved."

"So; heal him," the king said gratingly. "You can, can't you?"

Merlin didn't answer for some time, aware that he held the lives of two men in his hands. The king's eyes bored into him, and as he stared into their stormy depths, he felt the weight of his destiny crushing him. What should he do? The nightmare vision beset him again - Mordred striking, and Arthur falling, mortally wounded, at his assailant's feet. At all costs, he must stop that happening, even if it meant allowing the young knight to die. After all, he was an adult now, and it was time to leave the innocence of youth behind him and to shoulder his responsibilities, however onerous they might be. His duty to Arthur and the kingdom must always come first. However, Arthur knew his secret now, and seemed to have taken it more calmly than Merlin could have hoped for. A little voice warned him that the reckoning was merely delayed, but he couldn't focus on that now, not when so much was at stake. More to the point, after what he had witnessed, would Merlin be able to convince the king that it was beyond his powers to heal Mordred? He had to; it wasn't only for the future of the kingdom. Merlin admitted to himself that he couldn't contemplate a future without Arthur. He simply couldn't bear to lose him. Kilgharrah's deadly warning came back to haunt him yet again.

 _Kilgharrah._ He had always believed the dragon to be omniscient, but his error over the Disir proved that he was not infallible. His advice regarding Morgana hadn't turned out too well either. He sometimes showed a ruthlessness and lack of compassion, which troubled the warlock greatly. Merlin knew he must find a better way, one that did not involve the killing of a blameless young man. Arthur had vowed to make his own path, and he had been right about the Disir. Surely, Merlin could also free himself from superstition and take control of his own destiny?

Deliberately putting the vision and Kilgharrah's advice to one side, he considered carefully what he knew about Mordred. He was a likeable young man, hardworking and eager to please, similar to how Merlin himself had once been on his arrival in Camelot. They had so much in common, after all. They had both been forced to live a lie and hide who they truly were, with the result that they both craved acceptance. The boy was also desperate to befriend Merlin, and had shown solidarity with him at Osgar's grave. The poignant words cast a deep shadow over him. "Unmarked in death as in life." Merlin felt an overwhelming guilt, as he recognized he had not done enough to change that situation. However, it wasn't too late, and he resolved to make amends. It would take courage and resilience, but it could be done. He would heal the boy and extend the hand of friendship to him. Perhaps they could work together to avert the terrible destiny. In the end, there was only one right thing to do, and his long deliberations culminated in a single word. "Yes."

He said no more, but turned his attention to his patient. He laid the wound bare and placed his hands above it. He recited an incantation under his breath, and a stream of shimmering golden light entered the wound. Mordred lay still for a moment, but then his body convulsed, as Merlin's healing magic encountered resistance from the poison within. For a while, the young boy's life seemed to hang in the balance, and the watching knights were so anguished they could not tear their gaze away. At last, the dark magic was expelled from Mordred's body, the black vapour pouring through his orifices and disappearing into the ether. The wound was completely healed, and the knight began to regain his normal colour.

Merlin turned to the others. "He's fallen into a deep sleep. He'll still need to rest, but he should be fine now," he told them.

No one was sure what to say, and there was an awkward silence, eventually broken by Gwaine.

"Merlin, mate, that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen," he said, awe and wonder in his voice.

The reverential tone infuriated Arthur. Mordred was out of danger, allowing Arthur's feelings of hurt and betrayal to come flooding back, and his anger erupted in a desire for revenge.

"Right, now that's over, on your feet!" he said brusquely, poking his sword at Merlin's back.

The servant turned his head, surprised. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"You heard. Stand up. Now!" Merlin stood up slowly.

"Good. That's right. Turn around and face me." As the warlock did so, he placed his swordpoint at Merlin's chest. " Now walk."

"Backwards?" the warlock quavered, wondering just what it was that Arthur intended to do with him. The king didn't deign to answer, instead forcing the servant in the direction he wished to go.

"Arthur, I can explain," he began in a pleading tone.

"Oh, _now_ you want to explain," the king returned grimly. " It can wait."

He tried again. "Arthur, I..."

"Shut up, Merlin." The king's eyes were hard and bright, and the warlock was compelled to keep moving inexorably.

Merlin looked over his shoulder and was dismayed to find himself nearing the edge of a precipice. Panic set in. "Arthur, please stop," he implored. " I'm sorry I lied to you, but I can explain everything."

"Not to my satisfaction, you can't." The king was unyielding in his determination, and Merlin was impelled relentlessly backwards, step by step, until he hovered right on the edge. He trembled, not daring to look down into the abyss. He couldn't speak, but his eyes sought Arthur's, begging for mercy.

"Goodbye, Merlin." The king flipped the sword, and with a wolfish grin, he pushed the warlock over.


	2. Chapter 2

The knights remained with Mordred, but Gwaine grew concerned for his friend's wellbeing and decided to follow Merlin and Arthur. He arrived just in time to see the warlock fall.

"What have you done? You've killed him!" he screamed. In an agony of grief and rage, he drew his sword and rushed at the king. Arthur was ready for him, and their swords clashed.

"Appearances can be deceptive, Gwaine," he warned as they moved apart.

The knight ignored him. "Murderer! I will avenge him," he snarled in return. "You are not long for this world, Princess!" Tears stung his eyes. " _Merlin_ , that sweet, kind boy. How _could_ you?"

The king was too angry to reply, and no more was said. They fought in earnest, with sweat trickling down their brows from the exertion. Sir Leon and Sir Percival came running, alerted by the noise. They were aghast to see that Gwaine was aiming to kill. The swordplay was too quick for them to intervene, and Gwaine was deaf to their pleas to stop. He would not be deterred from his purpose, and in the end, it was only the appearance of Merlin himself, dripping wet and shivering, which brought the fight to a close.

"Merlin!" the knight exclaimed, dropping his guard. "But..."

Within seconds, his legs were kicked from under him, and he lay flat on his back, with Arthur's sword at his throat. "You have committed treason, an offence punishable by death," the king said menacingly. He addressed Sir Leon. "Bind him and get him out of my sight." As the other knights led Gwaine away, he turned his attention to his servant. "You look like a drowned rat, Merlin," he said with malicious amusement.

Merlin didn't reply, but stood with his head bowed, a picture of misery and dejection. The dying embers of the king's anger spluttered and burned themselves out. He knew that the man before him was unquestionably devoted to his interests and loyal even unto death. He had proved that beyond any doubt by submitting to the king's will and failing to offer any resistance. Arthur was well aware that the warlock could have stopped him at any time, had he chosen to do so. Merlin hadn't known that the drop wasn't steep, and that he would suffer nothing worse than a ducking. A twinge began to pull at Arthur's conscience, and he finally relented.

"Alright," he said, your punishment is over, although you can be thankful it wasn't a great deal worse. Go and make yourself warm and dry now."

Merlin looked around helplessly. "How?" he said.

Arthur raised his eyes. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

This echo of what Lancelot had once said brought a lump to Merlin's throat. "You mean?" he said, hardly daring to hope.

"Yes; that's what I mean. Use your magic. I can't have you dying of a chill, idiot!" Observing that the warlock was beginning to look more cheerful, he smiled and followed the others back to the camp.

Arthur was enjoying himself. Having dealt with one miscreant, he was looking forward to meting out justice to the other. "Bring Sir Gwaine to me," he commanded. The knight was brought before him and stood to attention, staring straight ahead.

"So, Sir Gwaine, do you concede my right to discipline my servants in any way I choose?" the king began.

"Yes, Sire," he replied, shamefaced at the enormity of his mistake and apprehensive about the consequences of his actions.

"That extends to my knights also," the king said softly.

"I'm sorry, Sire. I misjudged the situation. I thought..."

"I know what you thought, Gwaine, and I find that harder to forgive than the rest. Did you really imagine I could..."

"He's my friend," he offered by way of justification.

"Mine too, but after years of unbridled deceit, he needed to be taught a lesson. As do you."

The knight braced himself for the worst, and Arthur delivered his verdict, even though he was tempted to let him sweat it out a little longer. "You will have double guard duty for the next month. Afternoon and evening shifts every day."

Gwaine let out a deep sigh of relief that the sentence wasn't heavier, although he groaned inwardly. Arthur knew him too well. He found guard duty unspeakably dull. And also..."That means..."

"Yes, sadly the other denizens of the Rising Sun will have to do without your sparkling presence for a while. I am sure they will survive the loss," the king quipped. "And a little sobriety in that hot head of yours will do you the world of good. Perhaps it will make you think before you act."

"Yes, Sire. Thank you."

"Don't let it happen again," the king warned. "I will not be so merciful next time. You may go," he said with a nod of dismissal.

Merlin returned to the camp in a subdued mood. The knights were unsure how to behave towards him, looking to the king for their lead. Arthur seemed content to postpone his investigations into Merlin's conduct and history, choosing instead to keep him busy, first by sending him to tend to the horses and then to gather firewood.

Mordred woke up and was confused to find himself completely recovered. "I thought I was injured," he said, "but it must have been a dream."

"No, it wasn't a dream. Merlin healed you," the king replied shortly, still having difficulty coming to terms with the changed circumstances.

"But I thought that the wound..."

"...was magical?" the king finished for him. "Yes, it was. Turns out Merlin's a sorcerer. Quite a powerful one, it seems."

"Oh," Mordred replied, letting out a deep breath. He tried to keep his face and voice neutral, but inwardly his spirits were soaring. The secret was out at last, and it seemed that Arthur had accepted it. Also, if Merlin had healed him, taking such a risk in the process, surely it meant that he had earned the trust of the warlock, after all? Mordred's heart swelled with hope and gratitude, and he felt more optimistic about the future than he had in a very long time.

"You don't seem surprised," the king remarked, a slight challenge in his voice.

Mordred lifted his chin and looked the king directly in the eye. "I'm not. I've always known." Then, realizing there would never be a better opportunity, he plucked up courage, and added, "He's not the only one. I have magic too."

There was a moment's astonished silence, and the air seemed to crackle with tension. Then Arthur threw back his head and laughed. He laughed so long and hard that it seemed he would never stop. The knights looked at each other uncertainly, but the king's mirth was so infectious that they were unable to prevent themselves from joining in.

 _Two_ sorcerers! He now had double proof that magic was not intrinsically evil. He had two men serving him whose loyalty and virtue were beyond doubt, and he knew that he must take urgent action to remedy their plight.

Once the tension had dissipated, Gwaine's natural curiosity began to rise to the surface. "So, are you and Merlin the same, then?" he asked the young knight.

" Oh no," Mordred replied humbly. "I have magic, but he _is_ magic."

"What do you mean?" the king asked curiously.

"Well, he's the greatest," Mordred said in a hushed tone. "He has the power of a god, and he's a hero to my people. We call him... _Emrys_."

There was silence while they all tried to reconcile the unassuming young man they knew with the all-powerful warlock that Mordred had described.

" So why would he be content to scrub my floors and muck out my stables for years on end?" the king mused.

Mordred smiled. "You'd have to ask him, Sire, but I'd say it's because of his destiny."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but Mordred had already anticipated his next question.

"It is said that you and he will unite the lands of Albion. The Once and Future King, and The Greatest Sorcerer that ever Lived. Together, you will institute a Golden Age, with magic liberated once more...the time the poets speak of."

"How many people are aware of this prophecy?" the king asked.

"Among the druids, it is common knowledge, My Lord," Mordred replied.

"He might have thought to tell me," the king said sadly. "If only I'd known, we could have started the project much sooner."

Merlin returned with an armful of firewood. The sudden silence that fell alerted him that he had been the subject of the conversation. Mordred stood up and approached him. "Thank you for saving my life, Merlin," he said.

"You're welcome," Merlin replied, with a warm handshake. Gwaine interrupted them.

"Merlin, my friend, young Mordred here has just been telling us all about your magic. I want to see it. Will you show us?"

"What? No!" Merlin replied, afraid of the king's reaction. "You've already seen me heal Mordred. Let that suffice. I'm not a performer, Gwaine."

Mordred spoke to him quietly. "They all know of the destructive capabilities of sorcery. You should show them that magic can be beautiful and harmless as well."

"I agree," the king said. "Your magic could never be evil, Merlin, and I would like to see more of it."

This brought tears to Merlin's eyes. "Do you really mean it?" he whispered.

Arthur sighed. "Why do you always doubt that I mean what I say? Of course I mean it."

This decided the matter, and Merlin smiled through his tears , seeing an opportunity to reach out to the druid boy. "Alright," he agreed. "But what about you, Mordred? Won't you join me?"

"You want _me_ to..." Mordred stammered. "But I don't have your power," he demurred, blushing slightly.

"You have power enough for this," Merlin reassured him. "And the practice will do you good."

"Well, yes, I am a little out of practice," Mordred admitted.

"Why is that?" Sir Percival asked.

"I have tried hard to stay within the law."

"I take it _you_ are not out of practice, Merlin?" If the king had hoped to discompose the warlock, he was disappointed.

"Not at all, Sire. How do you think I've been saving your royal backside all these years?" he responded with a cheeky grin. Even Arthur chuckled at this, and the knights felt relieved that with the return of the insults and banter, normal service had been resumed.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, what are you going to show us, Merlin? I'm expecting something girly," Arthur couldn't resist teasing the servant.

"Is this what you have in mind, Sire? Your wish is my command." A kaleidoscope of multicoloured butterflies fluttered around the king before landing all over his head and arms. A particularly beautiful, large, red specimen took its time, weaving a graceful dance back and forth, finally settling into a comfortable resting place on the bridge of the king's nose. Arthur shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the visitors, but they would not be moved.

"Merlin! Get them off!" he shouted.

The warlock leaned back against the tree trunk and stretched out his legs in a leisurely fashion. "Ask nicely," he smirked.

"Merlin! I'm warning you!"

The chortles of the knights grew louder, and seeing that the king was becoming apoplectic, the warlock took pity on him, sending the butterflies away with a wave of his hand.

"Humph!" said the king, "Very amusing! But next time, we need something more... _significant_. Something that we can show to the people to convince them of the benefits of magic."

"No pressure, then," the warlock quipped. "I will discuss it with Mordred on the journey back, My Lord, and we will be sure to come up with something that meets with your approval."

This brought the queen to Arthur's mind. "Yes, we should be getting back soon," he said. "Gwen will be worried."

Merlin's thoughts turned to Gaius, and how much he would have to tell him. He could hardly wait. The physician was sure to be both surprised and delighted by his news. The knights were also eager to return home, so it was decided they would leave at first light. Arthur, wishing to take the opportunity to check on the welfare of more of his subjects, chose to return by a different route. His claim to know the area was again proved correct, as he led them unerringly through hamlets and villages dotted through the mountains.

They encountered no problems until they reached the village of Claydor. There they were greeted by the sight of a procession of villagers carrying heavy receptacles of water up a very steep hill. An elderly woman, who was struggling to breathe, collapsed to the ground under the weight of her burden, dropping the bucket and spilling the contents. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. The party from Camelot rushed to her assistance. Sir Leon and Sir Percival helped her to her feet, while Sir Gwaine went to refill the bucket from the stream below. The king stopped one of the other inhabitants and questioned him intently. Then he called all the knights and Merlin to him.

"Their well is contaminated," he told them. "Those who drank the water died. We must do what we can to help."

"Build them a new one, you mean?"

The king stared at the warlock. "Merlin, they need the water now."

"So, let Mordred and me build it. (1) We can do it quickly. And we can put a protective spell on it, to stop the same thing happening again."

Arthur hesitated. He began to perceive that his father's policy of spreading fear and suspicion of all things magical could have unfortunate repercussions. "It's a good idea, but will they accept a well built by magic?"

"They will when they see you drink from it first," Merlin responded.

Arthur nodded. "Alright," he said. "But is there anything you need? Tell me if there's something we can do to help."

"Thank you, Sire, but we can handle it," Merlin replied. He had yearned for so long for a chance to prove what magic could achieve, that now it had presented itself, he was determined to take it. Arthur read his mind.

"I have faith in you," he said. "Both of you." He slipped an arm around each of them, and gave them an encouraging hug. "I know you can do this. Good luck."

The sorcerers were elated at this mark of royal approbation. Merlin's shining eyes were a testament to his feelings, but Mordred spoke with the earnest intensity of youth. "Thank you, My Lord. We won't let you down, I promise you." The knights shook their hands and wished them good fortune, before going to inform the villagers of what was about to happen. Gwaine lingered for longer, clapping them heartily on the back and offering his support.

A small crowd had gathered by the time the sorcerers had chosen their spot. They watched in fascination as Merlin grasped Mordred's hand. "Open your mind," he said, "and I'll show you what we are going to do." He sent him the image telepathically. "This is what it will look like. We'll start with the shaft." The sorcerers' eyes glowed gold, and the ground shook beneath their irresistible force. A hole began to appear at their feet. The tunnel burrowed deeper and deeper into the earth, until it found its target. They lined the shaft with stones, and then released their protective charms simultaneously. A series of dazzling blue and purple sparks shimmered and floated down into the water. A collective gasp was heard, as more rocks materialized out of thin air and were arranged around the hole, the sorcerers taking turns to seal each layer in place. A tiled roof, in attractive Pendragon red, was fixed atop supporting beams and pillars. Merlin smiled in satisfaction as a thick pole, covered in rope, was installed into position to draw the water. He made the handle a matching vibrant red, and turned to his companion. "What shall we name it, Mordred? You choose." Mordred smiled, and the legend "King Arthur's Well", scripted in golden letters, adorned the newly erected sign, with the crest of the Pendragons emblazoned beside it.

" Nice touch," Merlin approved. "They will remember they have the protection of their king." A thought occurred to him, and he called the king. "Sire, would you do the honours, please?"

Arthur had been watching his men with a mixture of pride and sadness. He realized that he must lose them; that he must set them free and allow them to be who they truly were. Mordred was a promising knight, but Arthur had never seen him look as happy and fulfilled as he did now. As for Merlin himself, it would be a wrench to part with his services as manservant, but Arthur recognized that he was in the presence of greatness. "It will be my pleasure, Merlin," he said, stepping forward to draw the first bucket from the well. Filling the goblet Merlin had given him, he drank deeply before proclaiming, "I declare this well open!" The villagers clapped and cheered, and the knights rushed to congratulate their friends. Celebratory goblets were soon shared all around. Sir Gwaine, who would rather have been imbibing a different sort of beverage, was delighted to find that his water tasted of mead. Speechless, he turned to the warlock, who merely winked in response.

Their mission completed, the group soon departed, after accepting the renewed thanks and good wishes of the villagers. On the journey home, Arthur called the sorcerers to him, to discuss his ideas and hopes for the future. Merlin was overwhelmed by this complete reversal of fortune and the accomplishment of all his dreams. Yet there was still a cloud on the horizon, as he wrestled with the problem of Mordred's destiny. The boy deserved to know, and no good could come of secrets and lies, as Merlin was only too aware, but he could not bring himself to do it. It would be too crushing a blow, and he wasn't sure Mordred would be able to cope with it. The danger wasn't imminent, in any case, as Mordred bore the king no malice, and seemed to feel only love and respect for him. The greatest risk was that it could happen by accident, but even that seemed less likely now, in view of Arthur's plans. Merlin resolved to remain vigilant, while offering the boy his friendship. Once he had Mordred's trust and confidence, he would be better able to judge when the time was right.

They reached the citadel, and the first task was to apprise Gwen and Gaius of the news. Having made his decision, Arthur sent the knights to summon the citizens to the courtyard, as he wished to make his announcement without delay. Once the people were gathered, the king and queen appeared on the balcony, flanked by Merlin and Mordred, who were wearing the blue cloaks of the new Department of Magic. The king held up a hand to call for silence. A solitary dove flew overhead, and it seemed to Merlin that the gods themselves were smiling as Arthur spoke.

" _Magic is welcome in Camelot._ "

THE END

(1) Special thanks to caldera32 for the idea of the well building.


End file.
